


Maiden Sword

by shinobi93



Category: Henry IV - Shakespeare, Henry IV Part 1 - Shakespeare, Henry IV Part 2 - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Family, Gen, Genderswap, Sneakiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinobi93/pseuds/shinobi93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan Lancaster, second daughter to the Henry who owns the largest theatre in London, is determined to do something to help her family. Northumberland's Men are discontented and the past haunts her father even when it is not being enacted on stage.</p>
<p>It is 1599 and she will never forget this year as long as she lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maiden Sword

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kerrypolka](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kerrypolka).



> For kerrypolka: I took your AU genderswapped John (and Hal) prompt and ran with it, in hopefully an interesting setting. Consider it an experiment with some gratuitous references. 
> 
> Any inaccuracies or artistic licence I'll blame on the fact of changing an early modern play set in a sometimes anachronistic version of the early 15th century back into an actual late 16th century setting. No warnings, though references to canonical character death which I assume, as readers of Shakespeare's histories, everyone is prepared for.
> 
> Note: I've gone with Shakespeare's option of non-existent Joan of Navarre for this AU, partly to stop Joan confusion.

The Lancasters have a reputation, much of it not good.

Joan Lancaster, second daughter to the Henry who owns the greatest theatre in London, wishes she could do something about that reputation. Do something, or at least stop the people fighting against them and ever blackening their reputation. Her father’s long nights at his desk and his tired eyes in the candlelight are an open secret, as is the way he came about this theatrical legacy, though the details are hazy in the minds of most. It is a cutthroat business. Most of the players do not care, so long as they are paid and their lives not looked into too deeply; the audiences simply want cheap thrills, though Joan’s elder sister Hal claims these thrills are not cheap but indeed the very essence of living. She wishes she could be a player, Joan is certain, though Joan is less certain as to what good that’d do. Thankfully it is a step too far, even for Hal.

Her father’s secretary Westmoreland enters wearily, bowing his head at Joan. Blanche and Philippa are sat in a corner by the fire, whispering and giggling. The little girls are ignorant of the troubles, but Joan is not. Whenever she can, she listens in, playing the part of the dutiful daughter, ostensibly worrying about her father (she is worrying about him, but that is secondary, the reason why she is spying in the first place, an intelligencer in her own house).

Joan inclines her head questioningly. ‘Percy again?’ Westmoreland nods. ‘Shall I fetch my father?’

 

-

 

Harry Percy, nicknamed Hotspur for the hot-headedness he is constantly revealing, is the star of Northumberland’s Men, the playing company associated most closely with their theatre. He is also an exception to the actors not caring rule. Joan has little time for his complaints, though she does not deal with them herself of course. Still, she hears plenty about Hotspur’s grievances, based upon how his acting company were the only people to stand by Henry Lancaster when he moved against his cousin Richard, the old owner of the theatre. Joan remembers those days, though people seem to assume she doesn’t: Hal following her favourite relative around like a puppy, not deterred each time someone tells her it is no place for a girl; their father embroiled in arguments that get progressively worse, until one day Richard tells him he has no place in the theatre any more, but should take some time to consider his position; finally, their father returning, having considered and come to a conclusion Richard will like even less.

Henry’s support from Northumberland’s Men did not make their position safe. Joan has known many days and nights when her and her siblings are ushered into rooms, guarded, keep under protection whilst Henry holds long debates with enemies and, at least once, had to fight off people attempting to burn their theatre down. It was not the sort of education a father would want a daughter to have. For a son, perhaps, good preparation, but her brother Thomas does not seem to have learnt what Joan did. She watches him as he is content to follow their father around, like the younger Humphrey, doing as he says but without the careful thought and plotting that comes so easily to Joan. Hal can think too, think both like and unlike Joan; she is a law unto herself.

Percy wants more. More money, more power, more recognition. _If only you’d been a son_ , Henry says to Hal, the daughter who wishes her name was Harry. Sadly this agreement does not help them get along. Sometimes, Joan imagines what it would be like if she and Hal were sons. Louder, for one. Hal would act, upstage Hotspur in both performance and rebellion, and Joan would be the assistance her father needs, properly, not having to lurk in shadows.

Hotspur is no longer the son he wants, though, spreading rumours and bitterness about Henry that reach more and more ears, but nobody seems to be doing anything useful. Joan grits her teeth and considers what to do. Hotspur is plotting. Her father will have to act soon. She wants to help.

 

-

 

‘You have spirit, little sister,’ Hal remarks, having taken time off from disappearing along the bankside and over the river to stand side by side with her father as he faces off Percy. The compliment makes Joan glow with pride, though later she will feel a sting of annoyance that her elder sister believes this is the first time Joan has done anything useful. She was the one plotting with Westmoreland, setting up new measures to push Harry Percy into a corner, show Northumberland’s Men who is the real ruler of this theatre. Setting up the fire to blow that hot-headedness into full fury; fury that they have now driven away, a few sharp words from Hal goading Hotspur into leaving forever.

_‘You are a worthy foe,’ says the daughter of the theatrical usurper. Harry Percy has no words to fight this, no words that were not put into his mouth or found on the spur of the moment. This is an insult he will not take. He will leave the theatre and the city forever, not liking the direction either has gone. His apparent foe stands triumphant. Though she will act, she does not need to be told which words to say._

Joan is not done yet. She is young and her father too preoccupied to worry about marriage. Her sister is too busy disappearing to spend time with friends Henry pretends not to exist, and her brothers content to do exactly as their father wants, outward and inward. Somebody must do what he does not know he wants, or does, but will not speak. Henry is growing ever older, cheeks thinning as he is constantly saying his father’s did, muttering to himself even in company. All their enemies are rebels now to him, an uprising against his authority. Joan hears the name Richard a lot. The past echoes even when the play on that night is not a tale of old kings and battles. They are all haunted by it.

 

-

 

More actors are discontented. Other men too. All old grudges against Henry are rising up now. Henry leaves the theatre to solve property disputes, on what will be his last trip away from his own sphere of influence, and when he returns, he collapses into a chair, breathing heavily. Westmoreland is there, directing servants. Joan offers her father a blanket, knowing the action will give her leave to linger in the room whilst business is discussed. To her surprise, her father beckons her forward as she starts to retreat.

‘Help Westmoreland. Something must be done about the rebels.’

Joan goes to speak, to ask what about Thomas or Humphrey or even Hal, but she holds her tongue.

It is 1599 and she will never forget this year as long as she lives.

 

-

 

Henry does not want the obvious option, that is clear. They cannot march in and cause anger. The streets would be full of shouting then, a siege upon a rounded theatre. They are outside the city walls for a reason and they know who their neighbours are. Friends and enemies: the players have wide connections around here. York claims to be acting for the good of entertainment, Mowbray for his father, also an actor, who fought with Henry back in Richard’s day and left for France. Henry Lancaster can’t seem to ever escape his quarrels.

Westmoreland is to call for a meeting, on neutral ground. Henry should do it, but he’s ill, coughing fits and a face the colour of trampled straw, murky not with literal dirt but years of dirt added to his name. Joan, dutiful daughter, will be there. Unorthodox, but they are beyond playing by the rules. In some ways, Henry lost that privilege the day he moved against his cousin, wanting all after a part was taken from him. His second daughter will sidestep the rules, standing in for her ill father, too shaken with the past to confront the present. She has watched for too long. It is time to act. Nobody will expect anything from her, nor from gentle old Westmoreland, his allegiance the most offensive thing about him. An allegiance that stretches far enough for him to put trust in a female mind.

A female Lancaster mind.

Joan absentmindedly plaits Philippa’s hair, going over her plan, lying in wait. This is her chance. She anticipates her life, marriage to someone who will make a useful addition to her family’s web of connections, them controlling some part of the Lancaster world, an outpost away from the theatre in all likelihood. Henry gains money from other forms of entertainment too, against the uncertainties of the theatre. The plague comes and they close; the queen is angered and they must watch their step. Arguments about stolen plays, revenge plays taken from company to company in revenge. Joan has heard her father speak plenty of doing something as penance, for all that he has done, but there is never time, there is always some aspect of business to be looked over, looked after. She knows she must act now, and act well, or this empire of her father’s will be over. He does not really want more time to reflect.

The beginnings have been put in motion. All she needs now is a confrontation.

-

‘Do you agree to stand down, to publicly renounce your quarrel, if we will address all your grievances?’

These are the first words Joan has spoken to the group, York and Mowbray and others, and she stares straight at them as she does so, balancing disdain and friendliness. Westmoreland has promised all this to them already, but she wants that final confirmation, the satisfaction of them addressing her directly. Her words are chosen carefully. She speaks with the authority of her father.

‘We do,’ says York, lips curling into the vaguest hint of a smile, though Mowbray is giving her a look of flint. Their people are outside, gathered to hear the result, or to become a mob to enforce anger if the meeting goes the other way. It is a crucial moment, for them, for her, for London.

Westmoreland pours a cup of wine and holds it towards York. ‘This is good news.’

‘Good news indeed,’ smiles Joan, her eyes flashing. She must not let triumph overcome her yet. ‘Will you proclaim it now? There is no need to waste time.’

York nods. The others leave the room, their boots echoing as they descend the stairs. Outside, there are shouts, loud murmuring, but slowly, it dies down, men taking their fire elsewhere, to the taverns or the bear pit. Mowbray returns, along with a man called Hastings.

‘It is done.’

‘We will speak tomorrow.’ Joan pauses, relishing the satisfaction. ‘My father will resolve all your grievances.’ She steps towards the door, Westmoreland moving to follow. ‘I must now take my leave of you. Farewell.’

She will never forget that look on York’s face. It is the look of a man who does not know he has just been beaten by the daughter of Henry Lancaster.

-

The following day, the talk of the city reaches Joan around three o’clock, as she sits sewing with her younger sisters. Henry is upstairs, with Hal who is unusually at home at this time, and he has not been looking well. Her brothers are somewhere, though she cares not where. This is not their victory. 

Joan has been waiting for the news and Westmoreland brings it with a cheerful look. York, Mowbray and Hastings have been arrested on charges on treason and will be unable to meet with them after all. _What a surprise_ , she thinks to herself, with no hint of surprise. Westmoreland nods at her, expressing the pride that she hopes her father will also feel, and maybe Hal too. Few else can know of her victory, bought by dishonest means. For her family she does what it takes. There is noise from upstairs, though she does not recognise the sounds. Perhaps a new argument with Hal, though her father is in no state to have one. She glances at the ceiling. It is time to tell her father what she’s done.

Joan stands and makes her way to see her father. It is the last time she will ever do so.


End file.
